"I doubt if we shall be able to do anything for you,"
he said reassuringly. "But an English mastership may chance to be
vacant. Science doesn't count for much in _our_ sort of schools, you
know. Classics and good games--that's our sort of thing."
"I see," said Lewisham.
"Good games, good form, you know, and all that sort of thing."
"I see," said Lewisham.
"You don't happen to be a public-school boy?" asked the precise young
man.
"No," said Lewisham.
"Where were you educated?"
Lewisham's face grew hot. "Does that matter?" he asked, with his eye
on the exquisite grey trousering.
"In our sort of school--decidedly. It's a question of tone, you know."
"I see," said Lewisham, beginning to realise new limitations. His
immediate impulse was to escape the eye of the nicely dressed
assistant master. "You'll write, I suppose, if you have anything," he
said, and the precise young man responded with alacrity to his
door-ward motion.
"Often get that kind of thing?" asked the nicely dressed young man
when Lewisham had departed.
"Rather. Not quite so bad as that, you know. That waterproof
collar--did you notice it? Ugh! And--'I see.' And the scowl and the
clumsiness of it. Of course _he_ hasn't any decent clothes--he'd go
to a new shop with one tin box! But that sort of thing--and board
school teachers--they're getting everywhere! Only the other
day--Rowton was here.
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